Globes are golden, says VICTORIA GALLAGHER-O'HOULIHAN
EMERALD GREEN? I’ve never read Nosferatu’s predictions at the back of the Bible, but I’m pretty sure that Angelina Jolie wearing emerald green is mentioned as a sign of the end times. This was just one of many upsetting things I learned from watching this year’s Golden Globes.
At least Angelina had a colour. Watching the red carpet bit on TV, there were so many corals and pale pinks I worried that I had unlocked that nudist colony channel again. Didn’t we get enough naked pastels at last year’s Oscars to see us through until time stops?
Minor caveats aside, it was a wonderful evening. There are spoilsports who would have you believe that the Globes are the film industry’s answer to a GAA dinner dance, but for me the awards that Pia Zadora built are the only game in town.
Say what you like about rumours of bribery and corruption: the Globes give the people what they want. If a few hard-working journos get free holidays and an exclusive Vegas show featuring Cher in the process, then bully for them. Jealous much?
Last year, the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, the good people behind the Globes, named the magnificent Avatar as the best film. Meanwhile, the Academy was honoring some little-seen war movie just because a woman directed it. Critics moaned when The Touristwas nominated this year, but the truth is that we, the people, don't really care if The Touristis no good. If a film stars Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp, then it ought to be nominated.
Brangelina is the most famous couple on the planet, so it’s up to every awards body to ensure they’re sitting front-row-centre regardless of the film. That’s why the Globes are a party and the Oscars are dull. That’s why January Jones was comfortable enough to show up in a She-Ra costume last Sunday and why Julianne Moore looked happy in her asymmetric fuchsia sack.
I know it looks far too much like fun for some people. Some people would preferto look at Michelle Williams in a dreary beige hippy frock when they could be looking at Cameron Diaz.
Meanwhile, over at the Academy, they love beige. And they love Heath Ledger’s former missus because she plays miserable mares. Oscar voters swoon for miserable mares just as they scoff at Cameron Diaz for doing comedy. We, the people, do not. We flock to cinemas to see Cam, thereby ruling her out of the running for the stupid Oscars.
The haters scoff, of course. The Globes don't reward enough one-legged lesbian parts for their liking. The haters also like to point and laugh at the "liberal elite" letting their hair down. But last Sunday, when The West Wingwriter Aaron Sorkin praised all of the female nominees "for helping demonstrate to my young daughter that elite is not a bad word, it's an aspirational one," it was hard not to give myself a little congratulatory hug.
Hooray for Hollywood. Hooray for the Globes. Hooray for me.
